Last Potato Standing
by Dr. Pickle 22
Summary: If you have motion sickness, Odd Squad may not be the best job for you. One-shot. No shipping. Read at your own risk if you're a fan of Olaf's potato. :P


**A/N Hello everyone! I'm aware that this story is completely amateur, in fact it's the first story I've ever written. It's goofy and just for fun. Constructive criticism is much appreciated! :)**

I braced myself against the sides of the tube, waiting for everything to stop spinning. _Working for Odd Squad was amazing_ , I thought. _Just maybe less so if you're extremely motion-sick_.

"Morning, Agent October. You look less green than you did yesterday," O'Higgins greeted me.

"Good morning to you too, O'Higgins," I replied, rolling my eyes. Easy for the Tube Operators to aim all their jokes at me. At least I work in the lab, and only have to use the tubes to get to work. If I was in Investigation now, using the tubes multiple times a day... I was beginning to feel ill just thinking about it.

I ambled through headquarters on my way to the lab, nearly colliding with Dr. O, who was pulling a small brown object on a gurney at top speed towards her office. Olaf, who was trailing along behind, asked worriedly, "Potato?"

Dr. O glanced over her shoulder. "I'm sorry Olaf, I'm a doctor, not a gardener."

Shaking my head and smiling, I entered the lab. Oscar looked up from his tinkering.

"Oh, hey October! Can you give me a hand with something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Well, it's Agent Orson's birthday tomorrow, and I've been working on a brand new gadget for him. I call it" -he paused dramatically, gesturing to a blanket-covered lump on the floor- "the Napinator!" He yanked the blanket off, revealing a large box-like thing with vertical bars on the sides and no top. "See, you push this button here, and it plays music, heh heh. And this one makes it-"

"So it's a crib?"

"Crib? I thought 'Napinator' had a nice ring to it. Crib. That actually sounds kinda funny. Crib crib crib crib-"

"Oscar," I calmly interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"What did you need me to do?"

"Right, heh heh. I need you to test drive the Napinator."

"Me? In there?" I chuckled. "Sure, Oscar, if you say so."

"Great. Just climb in here and..." He began punching buttons.

Smushed inside the crib (er, Napinator) I felt it begin to rock slightly. Not too bad. But it kept going. Back and forth, back and forth, more and more... "Um, Oscar?"

"Relaxing, huh?" He grinned, pleased at the success of his invention.

"I get motion sick. Really motion sick."

"Oh." Oscar looked blank.

"OSCAR PLEASE GET ME A BUCKET."

He panicked, looking around the room, then ducking behind the counter he pulled out a trash bin and handed it to me. I leaned over the edge of the crib and... yep. "Please stop this thing," I begged.

"Okay, I'll just need a potato."

"Why couldn't you have just installed an off switch?" I groaned.

"All my gadgets have off switches! Aren't I allowed to do something creative once in a while?"

I tried to climb out of the Napinator. Two metal arms came out of the sides and clamped me down. I gave Oscar a black look.

"I didn't want Orson to jump out in his sleep," he explained sheepishly.

I sighed. "I'm sure there are potatoes in the breakroom. Wheel me up there."

"I'm so sorry," Oscar apologized. "I can at least slow down the rocking a little." He punched a few more buttons. That was a bit better.

Oksana looked up from her sink full of dishes and gave us that how-dare-you-set-foot-in-my-breakroom look.

"We need a potato," Oscar announced.

"Didn't you hear?" Oksana droned. "Potatoes have gone extinct. All 975 agents have been complaining that there were no fries with yesterday's hamburgers. If you two came here to whine about that, you can join the last agent who tried it."

"What-" Oscar began.

Oksana stared at him.

"Never mind about that," I said. "Potatoes can't be extinct. I saw Olaf with one this morning."

"I'm afraid that's your problem." Oksana went back to washing pots.

Oscar turned the Napinator around. "Now what?"

"I say we try Dr. O's office. They were heading in that direction." On the way out I snagged a large yellow bowl off the counter, thinking it might come in handy if this took too much longer.

Dr. O was arranging bottles of sparkly liquid on a shelf when Oscar carted me into the room. I was getting a headache.

"What happened to Olaf's potato?" I asked the young doctor.

"I tried my best," she replied, looking off into a corner and beginning a flashback. People never did that before I joined the Squad. Eh, there were a lot of things I never saw people do until I joined. I didn't say 'eh' like I was some Canadian either.

Dr. O was working on the potato on her exam table. Laying down her stethoscope, she looked at Olaf, who was whimpering on the other side of the table. "Olaf, I'm afraid this potato is done for."

"Potato," Olaf murmured, burying his face in his hands.

Dr. O's flashback cleared, and Oscar blew his nose.

"I'm going to be sick again," I moaned.

Dr. O reached up and took a bottle of purplish-greeny-black goop off the shelf. "You should take some anti-nausea remedy."

"Um, no thanks." I wrinkled my nose. That would probably only make things worse."Where did Olaf take the stinking potato?"

"It smelled fine, I should know, I'm a doctor," Dr. O replied. "Olaf and Oren took it to Boise for a funeral."

Normally I would have found this amusing, but I facepalmed so hard it made my headache twice as bad. "You're telling me they're having a funeral for a potato?"

Dr. O looked at me. "Yes."

"Well, looks like it's off to Boise!" Oscar announced cheerfully. "And since the Napinator won't fit through the tubes, we'll use the Portal-nator." Before I could object, he whipped out the gadget, fired it, pushed me into the portal crib and all, and jumped in himself. Dr. O allowed herself a only a moment to watch us disappear through the portal, then turned around.

"WHAT'S next?"

Spinning and spinning and spinning, I had thought nothing was worse than the tubes. I was unfortunately mistaken. In that moment I could have probably choked Oscar had he been close enough. It was even worse than the merry-go-round last summer. And was that ever a rough landing! Oscar got the wind knocked out of him. I got what was left of my breakfast knocked out of me. The tray which jammed into my stomach didn't help matters.

Once Oscar caught his breath, I demanded to know what the tray was for.

"Paperwork, of course," he replied. "Orson is excellent with paperwork. Despite the fact that he's still learning the alphabet..." Oscar trailed off.

I sighed. "Let's go find Oren and Olaf."

We were in a barren potato field. On the horizon were two figures. As Oscar bumped across the field towards them, I realized something. "Did it occur to you to just leave me behind while you got the potato?"

He stopped, considering. "I guess that might have been easier, huh?"

I nodded. He resumed the bumping and swaying, and we eventually reached Oren and Olaf, who were having a moment of silence before a grave containing a tiny coffin.

"Hand over the potato," Oscar ordered awkwardly.

"Well excuse me," Oren said. "This was Olaf's favorite potato."

"Boooooo!" said Olaf.

"Show some respect for the dead," said Oren.

"Potato," sobbed Olaf.

I felt horribly sick. The Napinator was rocking increasingly faster. My stock of good humor was completely gone. "I feel like I'm going to lose my breakfast, only I've got none left to lose. I have a splitting headache. I'm attending the funeral of Earth's last potato. OSCAR! JUST GRAB THE POTATO AND RUN!"

All three boys were taken aback by my uncharacteristic explosion. Feeling ashamed already, I composed myself. "I'm sorry." I turned to Olaf, saying sweetly, "Olaf, if you let us have your potato, we can plant it and grow lots more."

Hope dawned in his eyes. "Potato?"

"Yes, potato."

He reached down and took the coffin out of the grave.

"Olaf, what are you doing?" Oren exclaimed. "You can't trust them! What do they know about potatoes?"

But Olaf looked him in the eyes. "Potato," he said firmly.

"Olaf, no!" Oren was incredulous.

Olaf handed Oscar the potato, which he took with a soft, yet celebratory "Yes! heheh," and placed it over a sensor in the side of the Napinator.

The rocking slowed. I was better already. Now, how to get home, the tubes? The Portal-nator? Looks like I wasn't quite done with that bowl yet.

~THE END~

P.S. Oscar installed an off switch on the Napinator. Orson enjoys it very much.

P.P.S. Project Repopulate Earth's Potato Supply (REPS) is going well, and will succeed if Oscar's new fertilizer doesn't explode. After all, he's a scientist, not a gardener.

P.P.P.S. You might have wondered why they didn't just journey through the Potato Door. Owen lost it.


End file.
